Preacher Man: 'their blood shall be upon them' (Ted Darling crime series Book 9)

by L M Krier

  ‘If Darren’s seen the conference, he may now know he’s not the only one. Let’s hope that gets through to him and he realises he may be able to help prevent it happening again,’ Jo put in.

  ‘Jo, the state that young lad’s in, I doubt he’s thinking like that. If he’s reacted to seeing the church it’s because it’s scared him. He’s so shut down he’s not able to think about anyone else. I need to go. Amy’s good with him but for some reason, it’s still me he trusts most.’

  Jezza wasn’t greatly enjoying her tour of the less attractive parts of Lincoln, even with the easy company of DS Bryony Streeter. They were in the DS’s car, in convoy with an area car. They weren’t sure how easy it would be to pick up Tim Phillips if and when they found him so they’d decided to go prepared for trouble. Depending on where he was and who he was with, things could get a bit ugly. Bryony’s risk assessment had been to go with back-up already in place, rather than having to wait for them to come out if they were needed.

  ‘Well, if he’s not here, then I don’t know where we look next. This is the last place on our list of possibles. Who’d have thought that an addict who’s been through what he has could sofa-surf at such speed?’ Bryony said brightly as she pulled up outside yet another run-down and partly boarded up house, the front garden full of refuse, the walls spray-painted with graffiti and gang symbols.

  ‘You bring me to all the nicest places, Sarge,’ Jezza smiled as the two of them got out of the car. The two uniformed officers also got out but at a word from the DS, they waited by the vehicle.

  ‘I doubt we’ll get a warm reception here but they don’t usually bite. At least, not as long as they’ve had their fix. Hide behind me, if you like,’ she told Jezza.

  ‘I do kick-boxing. I don’t mind going first if you’d prefer me to.’

  They were both smiling as they tried the garden gate, which promptly fell off its hinges. They walked up to the front door, paint peeling from it in strips. Bryony knocked firmly on the cracked and dirty glass panel. There was no response.

  ‘Police. Can you open up, please?’ she asked as she knocked again. Then she grinned once more at Jezza as she said, ‘Not a very welcoming crowd, are they? I don’t think we’re going to be offered a cup of tea.’

  ‘Looking at the place, I think I’m quite relieved about that. And looking at that door, I think a hearty sneeze would probably open it.’

  Bryony pushed gently against the door which gave way immediately, swinging open to reveal a filthy hallway, crammed with litter as well as discarded footwear and outer clothing. The smell hit both of them at the same time. So many different odours, none of them pleasant.

  ‘Police. Anyone home?’

  There was a sound of sudden movement, scuffling, the inevitable hiding of anything incriminating following the dreaded knock on the door. After a few moments, a young woman came out of an open doorway on the left. Dark-skinned, dark hair in dreadlocks, clothes which had seen better days, sharp eyes which missed nothing.

  ‘DS Streeter, DC Vine,’ Bryony began, as they held up their ID. ‘We’re looking for Tim Phillips. Is he here?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we want to talk to him.’

  ‘Tim doesn’t talk. Not much, anyway.’

  ‘You know him then? Is he here or not?’

  ‘He doesn’t like strangers.’

  ‘Then we’ll introduce ourselves to him. And we’re not really all that strange. We’re quite nice people actually, when you get to know us.’

  ‘What do you want him for?’

  ‘So he’s here then? We want to make sure he’s all right. We’re concerned for his welfare.’

  She snorted in contempt. ‘Why now, all of a sudden? Do you know how long Tim’s been living rough? Why was no one concerned for him before now? Is it about what happened to him?’

  ‘What do you know about that?’

  ‘I’ve seen his body. I’ve seen the scars. He hasn’t said anything. Like I said, he doesn’t talk.’

  ‘Can we see him, then? Look, Tim fell through the system in the past. We’re trying to put that right now. We genuinely do want to help him. And we think he may be able to help us.’

  ‘So now you want to help him? Now, when there’s something in it for you? Anyway, you won’t get him to go anywhere with you. He’s terrified of anyone he doesn’t know.’ She was looking past them now, at the two PCs and the area car outside. ‘And he’ll flip completely if he thinks you’re going to try to put him in a car with two strange men.’

  ‘Are you his girlfriend?’

  ‘I’m his friend. He trusts me.’

  ‘So can we see him? I promise we’re not going to arrest him or do anything to frighten him. We really do want to help him. What’s your name?’

  She was still studying them with open suspicion and hostility. Her eyes settled on Jezza, as if she found her the more sympathetic of the two.

  ‘Storm. What’s yours?’

  ‘DC Vine. Jezza. And it’s true, we really are here to try to help Tim. I know he’s been badly let down in the past and we want to start trying to put that right now. So can we see him?’

  She took a moment to weigh things up then jerked her head at them to follow her as she went back into the room she had come out of. There were two young men in there, one of them lying, completely out of it, on a dirty rug in front of a fireplace, curled up, with a ragged blanket thrown over his legs and feet. The other was sitting near the window, in an old armchair from which the stuffing protruded in places. As soon as he saw two strange faces, he pulled his filthy bare feet up on to the chair and wriggled himself as far back as he could, as if trying to pass through the chair’s back and hide himself in a dark corner. They both knew immediately that this was Tim Phillips.

  First impressions were of how thin he was, almost emaciated. It made his anxious eyes appear even bigger in his gaunt face. If Jezza had ever wondered about the meaning of the phrase ‘a haunted expression’, it became clear just from looking at Tim Phillips’ face.

  ‘Hello, Tim,’ the DS said, as gently as she could. ‘I’m Bryony and this is Jezza. Would it be all right if we had a little word with you?’

  There was no mistaking the terror in those wide eyes. Jezza knew instinctively that they had one chance only to get this right. If they blew it, they’d never again get anywhere near Tim Phillips. Jezza moved a little closer, speaking quietly to the DS as she did so.

  ‘Sarge, let me have a go.’

  Bryony moved aside and Jezza squatted on her haunches in front of the cowering young man.

  ‘Tim, I’m Jezza and I really do just want to help you. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise, and I don’t want to frighten you. I think you need some help, Tim. Would you let me help you?’

  He was looking pleadingly towards the girl, seeking the reassurance of familiarity.

  ‘Tim doesn’t trust anyone. Not even me all of the time,’ she told them.

  Jezza never moved her eyes from his face as she continued to speak gently.

  ‘I understand that, Tim. I know you’re very scared. If Storm comes with us, would you go with us to find someone who can help you? A safe place for you to be until you’re well again? Somewhere I promise you that no one will hurt or frighten you. Where you’ll be properly looked after until you’re better.’

  ‘Why this sudden interest in him now?’ the girl began angrily, but the DS silenced her with a gesture. Jezza was still speaking.

  ‘Tim, you’ve been let down, very badly. You should have had help long ago. I know it’s late coming but I promise you, we have found you somewhere where you’ll be safe and be looked after. By people who understand your fears. And no one will force you stay. If Storm comes with us, will you let us help you?’

  For a moment, Jezza thought he was going to push himself so far back in the chair that he would disappear up over the backrest. But at least he was making eye contact with her, scrutinising her face for some sign, some reassurance he was see
king. Then he gave one quick, almost imperceptible nod of his head, his eyes still locked with Jezza’s.

  Storm was looking out of the window at the area car again.

  ‘You’ll never get him in there, never in a month of Sundays,’ she warned.

  ‘We’ll take him in my car, then. Will you come with us?’ the DS asked.

  ‘Are you really trying to help him? This isn’t just some devious way of arresting him on a drugs charge?’

  ‘We really are trying to help him,’ Jezza assured her. ‘Tim’s been abandoned and left to fend for himself ever since what happened to him and he shouldn’t have been. It’s time to put that right, to give him the care he needs. Tim’s a victim here, not a criminal, and he’ll be treated as such.’

  Storm took his hand and helped him to his feet.

  ‘Come on, then, Tim. I’ll go with you and we’ll see what these people can do to help you. But I promise you that if they don’t help or if they frighten you, I’ll get you out of there. Then you and I will go off and find somewhere where no one will ever bother us again. Swear down.’

  As she led him from the room, the DS turned to Jezza.

  ‘That was pretty impressive.’

  ‘My kid brother’s autistic. He lives with me. He can sometimes go into meltdown for reasons I don’t fully understand. I’ve had to learn ways to get him to calm down. So, where to now?’

  ‘I’d have liked to take him to the nick first, to get him processed through the system. But that will obviously completely freak him out, so we’ll go straight to the unit where we’ve finally managed to find him a place. A couple of years too late, but at least it’s better late than never.’

  All Jezza’s patient work was nearly undone when they got Tim outside and he saw the two male officers in uniform standing next to the area car. It seemed to send him into total panic mode and he turned and tried to bolt back to the sanctuary of the house. This time it was Storm who managed to calm him down. It was clear she genuinely cared for him, but whether there was any sort of relationship between the two was uncertain.

  The DS had to tell the two officers to get back in the car and drive round the block to wait for them before Tim would move. Jezza stood back and left Storm to deal with him. She took the time to make a quick phone call to the boss.

  ‘We’ve found Tim, boss. We’re just trying to persuade him to get into DS Streeter’s car, but we have at least found him. He’s not in a good way. He has a friend with him, a girl, and she says he doesn’t talk much. I don’t know if we’ll get anywhere with him but at least he’s going to be in a safe place tonight, and for a few days to come.’

  ‘Excellent, Jezza, good work. We’ve got news of Darren, too. Maurice has gone up to be with him. It’s still him Darren wants when he’s upset.’

  He told her about Darren having seen part of the press conference and his reaction to the sight of the church.

  ‘It seems that the word church, or the sight of that one in particular, is some sort of trigger word for Darren. He seemed to recognise the one where his phone was left and his reaction was quite extreme. So just watch out for the same happening with Tim.’

  ‘Are we any nearer to getting him, boss? The Preacher, I mean? Do you think so?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know yet, Jezza. I think we’re nearer than we were, especially now Darren is trying to tell Maurice something. Our best chance so far is if either Tim or Darren say something which advances us. Or if the press conference brings us in any reliable leads. So far we’ve had the usual run of irrelevant ones but it’s early yet. With luck the piece will go out again at least once this evening and then we might really start to get somewhere.’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Rob O’Connell was sorting out the list of things the boss wanted him to do, starting with trying to arrange a face-to-face with Peter Spencer. He was annoyed with himself that he hadn’t done it without being prompted. He’d just found nothing so far in the man’s background which seemed to make him a suspect. He knew the boss liked nothing left to chance so he felt he should have done it without prompting. He knew his concentration wasn’t what it should be at the moment, not now he and Sally had started the application process to be foster parents.

  He phoned Spencer’s mobile, but it went to voicemail. He left a brief message for him to get in touch. Then he called Stanley Harrison. As he suspected, the man was not thrilled to hear from him again, even less so to be asked to present himself at the station either with a solicitor of his own choosing, or to ask for the duty solicitor when he arrived.

  ‘Am I being arrested for something? If so, what?’

  ‘No, not at all, sir,’ Rob decided he better be as polite as possible. He was fully expecting Harrison to make a complaint about him at some point. He didn’t want to give him any ammunition. ‘It’s just that it would be helpful to our current enquiries if you could give me an account of your movements on certain dates, as I mentioned at our last meeting.’

  ‘I’m sure my solicitor will advise me to tell you nothing at all until you tell me why you’re asking me these questions. Give me the dates which interest you and depending on what my solicitor says, I’ll either give you the answers or not. And it will depend on his availability when we can meet. I don’t have a car. Could you not travel to see us?’

  ‘I’m prepared to do that, Mr Harrison, if that would be better for you. Let me have your address and tell me when would be more convenient.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not giving you my address. I don’t want the police coming round here bothering my mother. You can come to my solicitor’s office.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. If it could be as soon as possible that would help us immensely. I think you yourself live in Poulton-le-Fylde? Is that correct, Mr Harrison, so is your solicitor somewhere near there?’ Rob said politely, waiting to note the details Harrison gave him.

  He couldn’t resist dropping into the conversation that he already had the man’s address, or at least his last known one.

  ‘How did you know that? Why are you snooping on me?’

  ‘I’m not, Mr Harrison. I’m talking to several people who have any connection with the church I asked you about previously, as well as a couple of others. You don’t have a car, you say, but does your mother perhaps?’

  ‘Mother’s in her late eighties and registered blind so no, she doesn’t have a car. She can’t drive. Never has been able to. Neither can I.’

  ‘Is there anyone else at your address? Anyone who perhaps does drive and who might have a car, or have access to one?’

  ‘I think you should wait to put any questions to me until I’ve taken advice from my solicitor.’

  ‘It’s a simple enough question, Mr Harrison. I can easily find the information for myself. But it would be much quicker and more helpful if you could give me the information now.’

  Harrison hesitated then made a sound of irritation.

  ‘Very well. Mother’s younger brother lives with us. Harold Buckley. Much younger. He’s in his sixties. He’s what always used to be called backward. He certainly doesn’t drive a car. He can’t really do anything much for himself.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Harrison, you’ve been most helpful and I appreciate it. If you could let me know as soon as possible when we can meet up.’

  It was as well the boss wasn’t in the main office to see the coarse gestures Rob was making at his phone when he ended the call. There was only young Steve in the office. He saw and went pink but he was not about to say anything.

  Rob caught his expression and laughed.

  ‘Man’s a complete wanker, and a creepy one, at that. If you’re making coffee, Steve, I wouldn’t say no.’

  Somehow it was always Steve’s turn to make the coffee, as the youngest member of the team, but he got up obligingly and went to do so. There was only him and Rob in at the moment and he would have felt uncomfortable expecting the DS to brew up for him, although the boss wasn’t above making drinks for anyone.

  R
ob had to wait awhile until he heard from Peter Spencer. His mobile showed an incoming call from a number he didn’t recognise.

  ‘DS O’Connell? It’s Peter Spencer again. You asked me to call you.’

  ‘Thanks for calling me back, Peter. I didn’t recognise the number.’

  Again the ready laugh that had marked their previous conversation.

  ‘You wouldn’t believe the phone troubles I’ve been having. It could only happen to me. I dropped my smartphone, which was not very smart of me, and it was not smart enough to withstand such abuse. Apart from a cracked screen, I can now just about pick up incoming messages but despite my best intentions plus a few words Father would not have approved of, I can’t manage to make any calls or send any texts. Anyway, long story short, I’ve picked up a cheap pay as you go, which is what I’m calling from, until I can get the other one repaired. What can I do for you?’

  ‘I wonder if I could ask you a few more questions about the church? Preferably before you go off on your trip. And preferably face-to-face, if that’s possible?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I’m actually already on board a ferry, heading for the continent. I could launch a lifeboat and row back to shore, if it’s urgent?’ There was laughter in his voice again as he spoke. ‘I don’t know if you can hear me well enough, but I’m not catching everything you say. It’s probably this cheap phone.’

  ‘I don’t think you need to do anything that drastic. When are you back?’

  ‘Not for two or three months at least, I’m afraid. I’ve cleared my teaching engagements for three. Look, if it’s important for you to see my ugly mug while we’re talking, although I can’t imagine why you’d want to, I have my laptop with me so as soon as I get to my first hotel, we could perhaps talk via Skype, or something like that?’

  ‘Do you know when that’s likely to be?’

  ‘I’m footloose and fancy-free. I have a few firm appointments but the rest of the time I’m going where the wind blows me. I never book anything in advance. I’m a free spirit now, so I make the most of it. I’ve not even brought the car, so I’ll be travelling by train. I’ll probably find a hotel this evening, I imagine, unless I decide to board a sleeper train. But I will make contact as soon as I can, I promise.’